


The Izarae Legacy: Making Escapes

by iomccoy



Series: SWTOR—The Izarae Legacy [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: And neither of them have really acknowledged it yet, F/F, I don't know what the Smuggler's canon backstory is and I don't care, Pre-Canon, The shipping isn't quite a full relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:59:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6649054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iomccoy/pseuds/iomccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people look for a way out. </p><p>Someday, they'll be on opposite sides of a war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Izarae Legacy: Making Escapes

_If I ever have air ducts,_  Ahene thought, crouching above the exit point, _I will find a way to make them completely unsuitable as hiding places._  She shifted, careful not to disturb the plate that would open onto the meeting room.

Beside her was Sirue, tanned, with hair like dirty brass. Her eyes were blue, alight with excitement. "We're really going to do it," she whispered, clearly elated.

"Yes. Remember your part," Ahene hissed back. Tucked into her belt was a crude blaster. It would work; Ahene knew it would work. The pieces had been too right beneath her hands for it to do anything else. It _would_  work. She and Sirue would escape.

Sirue's hand on hers was not quite unexpected, but Ahene startled at the touch anyway. She returned, after the briefest of moments, to her customary blankness—but the damage, if damage it was, was done. Sirue was smiling with painful sincerity. "It'll work," she said, as if she'd read Ahene's mind. "We'll reach the stars in our stolen ship, and we'll do it together." Sirue pulled Ahene close, sending her into a minor panic—but, no, the plate remained unjostled. "You'll see," and Sirue's voice was barely a puff of breath in Ahene's ear. "We'll make it. You'll see."

It _was_  comforting, however much Ahene wanted to deny it, to be held. She stayed there a few moments longer, in the now-silent embrace of the only friend she'd ever had. Ahene did not close her eyes, did not dare close her eyes, but she relaxed, slightly. For once, she was not the one doing the comforting—and Sirue needed the chance to repay that comfort, needed it almost as much as Ahene needed the reassurance.

Ahene was the planner of the two, the one who'd set this up. But Sirue's tasks had been in the shipyard more often than not, and so Sirue would take the less-dangerous job—stealing the ship.

The more dangerous job would be removing the visiting Sith, who could end their plans in an instant if he ever noticed them. But he was as mortal as anyone else, and he would not get the chance. Ahene smiled, wan and humorless, and placed a hand on Sirue's shoulder. "Failure is not an option," she promised, and the plate fell away beneath her.

\---

The Sith was right below the plate, radiating a blazing darkness that Ahene could hardly bear to look at. But the time for looking was over; the time for planning, done. Now was the time for action and trust and deep, heartfelt hope that the Force might smile on a slave girl, just this once.

Ahene's blaster brushed the Sith's neck, and she _needed_  his death like she'd needed nothing else. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

The gun was ripped from her hand, flung against the wall, shattered. Ahene could not despair—could only crumple as pain crackled through her.

She screamed, the sound torn from her throat. Her shock collar had activated—no, could not have activated. Sirue had broken it for good the night before. But lightning arced from the Sith to Ahene, purple as fading twilight and inevitable as death.

It stopped, after what could have been moments or hours or centuries, and the Sith laughed. "Did you really think that could work?" he asked, utterly unshaken by the surprise attack.

Ahene said nothing. The pain had faded into memory—but her memories were overpowering like they'd never been before. Every moment of fear and pain. Every bit of anger Ahene had shoved to the back of her mind. Every ounce of hatred. It thrashed like a wild thing, caught up to her after all these years.

Ahene closed her eyes. They were too filled with tears to do her any use. Her hands twitched. And she remembered, with a will she could not let break, that _failure was not an option._

Something froze over. All at once, the emotions thrashing through her mind _left,_  surged through the air, met the object of her ire.

Ahene opened her eyes, and observed, distant and slightly dazed, that she held lightning in her hands. No, not just held; _threw,_  returning in kind the power that had moments ago incapacitated her.

Some part of her seemed to laugh, exultant—had she not, in a time both an instant and an eternity ago, asked the Force to smile upon her? And it had! Hope surged through her; glee of a kind she didn't feel like examining; something akin to awe...

Pain returned, and Ahene was slammed back into reality.

Only weak sparks flew from her fingers, when she tried to regain the power that had crashed through her. Surprise swirled around her hated opponent, then blazing rage.

His eyes were an entirely unnatural shade of orange, even compared to Ahene's own near-yellow, but they matched perfectly the hot miasma that surrounded him.

Ahene had time to blink, to realize exactly what she had just done, and then she was dragged down into nothingness.

\---

The first thing Ahene noticed upon awakening was that she was not dead. Furthermore, everything hurt. This was an improvement over being dead, but it was not helping her focus on the matter at hand.

 _First order of business,_  she thought. _Where am I?_

She opened her eyes. There was not a floor next to them, surprisingly. Everything went hazy for a few moments as what her body insisted was fire shot through her. When that cleared—she was strangely functional, at least in body. Neither her arms nor legs would move, but she could turn her head easily, and swiftly discovered that the reason for the former was the rope that bound her to the seat of a shuttle.

Which meant she was _in_  a shuttle. Her first thought, hopeful, was that Sirue had somehow rescued her, and they were on their way to their future. Then reality entered the situation—Sirue would not have bound Ahene's limbs.

So, she had been captured. The thought sent dizzying waves of rage through her. A couple of stray sparks burned holes in the seat.

Then everything clicked into perfect clarity. Lightning was the domain of the Sith. She had used it, fighting a Sith. And she was still alive. Therefore, there was only one place she could be going.

Korriban.


End file.
